Full Circle
by Serenade
Summary: Crossover with Donnie Darko. "Peter Petrelli, huh. What the hell kind of name is that? Sounds like a superhero or something." "What makes you think I'm not?"


FULL CIRCLE 

a Heroes fanfic

by Serenade

Note:  
For the reelheroes challenge. Certain lines of dialogue from Donnie Darko and Heroes have been quoted verbatim.

Spoilers:  
For Donnie Darko and for Heroes Season One.

Summary:  
"Peter Petrelli, huh. What the hell kind of name is that? Sounds like a superhero or something"  
"What makes you think I'm not?"

* * *

OCTOBER 2 2006

Peter flew over Carpathian Ridge, swooping through the air as the afternoon light bathed the landscape in gold. Wind flowed against his skin like water. Below him, the hills rolled away endlessly, a hundred shades of green. He tilted his face towards the sun, flying higher.

"Peter. Wake up."

Peter opened his eyes. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, trenchcoat over his pyjamas, slippers on his feet. Blue predawn light filtered through the curtains, illuminating the solid bulk of his dresser, a chair draped in old gym clothes, a ziggurat of school textbooks rising from the floor.

"Peter Petrelli."

A man in black samurai armour stood at the foot of the bed. A katana curved above his back, and a helmet masked his face.

Peter scrambled backwards until his shoulders hit the headboard. "Who are you?"

"My name is Hiro Nakamura," the samurai said. "I'm from the future. I have a message for you."

"What message? Am I still dreaming?"

"The world is coming to an end, Peter. In 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, 12 seconds. Only you have the power to stop it. Be the one we need."

"But what can I do?"

"Go up to the roof, Peter Petrelli. It all begins now."

* * *

Peter inhaled deeply, looking out over the dim and silent skyline of Middlesex. The chill of the roof tiles seeped through his slippers and numbed the soles of his feet. He remembered the rush of wind against his face with equal clarity. Was it only a dream? Was this? There was one way to find out. He dug his hand into the pocket of the trenchcoat, pulled out his cell phone, pressed speed dial one.

"What?" A sleepy, irritable growl.

"Nathan. It's me."

"Peter? For god's sake. Do you know what time it is?"

"Come outside. I want to show you something."

Nathan swore under his breath. But two minutes later, the front door opened and Nathan, still in his own pyjamas, stepped out onto the driveway. When he turned and saw Peter on the roof, he froze, the blood draining from his face.

"Peter. How did you get up there?"

"Nathan," he said, "it's like in my dream. I know what I have to do now."

"Stay right there." Nathan took a few steps forward, hand raised. "I'm coming to get you."

"It's all right, Nathan. Everything's going to be just fine."

"No! Peter!"

Peter spread his arms, leaning forward into the wind. Then he was falling towards the concrete, and Nathan was rushing up towards him.

* * *

"Thank god," Nathan said as soon as Peter opened his eyes. "You had us all worried to death."

Starched sheets rasped under his hands. Nearby, a monitor beeped steadily. "What happened?"

"You were sleepwalking again. Got up on the damn roof. Lucky you didn't break your neck."

Peter sat up slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. "I'm in hospital?"

"You had a few bumps and bruises. No broken bones though. God must look out for fools and madmen." Nathan stood. "I'll get Ma, she just went for a glass of water."

"Wait--" Peter reached out. The sleeve of his gown slid back. A row of numbers in black marker ran along his left arm. 28:06:42:12.

Nathan turned, cocking his head.

"I wasn't sleepwalking," Peter said slowly. "I climbed up there. And you--you caught me." His eyes widened. "Nathan, you flew!"

Nathan shook his head. "You were dreaming."

"It wasn't a dream," Peter insisted.

Nathan glanced around, then leaned in close. "Listen, Pete, you have to stop with these stunts. Start taking your meds again. When I'm away at college, I won't be able to look out for you all the time."

"I jumped. And you flew."

Nathan said nothing, only shot him a worried look, before slipping out the door. A few minutes later, the rest of his family poured in. His sister hugged him. His father merely nodded. His mother gripped his hand. "Peter. We're going to get you whatever help you need."

* * *

OCTOBER 3 2006

"Tell me more about this friend of yours," Dr Sanders said. "This samurai."

"That's it," Peter said, "that's all he told me. I have to stop the world from ending."

She made a note. "Did he tell you to jump off the roof?"

"No, not exactly." He still didn't know how to explain it. For one moment, it had all seemed connected--the dreams, the message, the constant feeling of being on the cusp of something great.

"Whatever you're going through," Dr Sanders said, "you don't have to do it alone. Sometimes our problems seem too big for one person to handle. Sometimes we need to borrow strength from other people. That's okay."

"What do you know about my problems?"

"Maybe more than you think."

Peter hesitated. But then again, she already thought he was crazy.

"I've been having these dreams," he said.

* * *

OCTOBER 4 2006

"You take care of yourself today, Peter," his mother said, as she pulled the Taurus up to the bus stop. "Claire, I'll pick you up after cheerleading practice."

While they stood there waiting for the school bus, Peter glanced sideways at Claire. "You sure you want to be seen with your freak brother?"

"What's new? You've always been a freak." But she punched him in the arm and smiled. Only pretending everything was normal, of course, but doing a good job of it.

"Hey, Petrelli!" Thompson sauntered up, Bennet in tow, just as the bus arrived. "I heard you tried to off yourself."

"That's not what happened."

They climbed aboard the bus together.

"You don't want to bail out," Bennet said. "If someone's making your life hell, you find some way of taking them down."

He and Thompson started an argument about blackmail and computer hacking and revenge. Peter stared out the window, only half-listening. The bus cranked to a halt at the next stop, and a girl got on. She wore their school uniform, but Peter didn't recognise her. She walked past them and sat further back. Peter craned his neck to look at her.

"Hey!" Thompson said. "Watch where you're going, you moron!"

Peter turned around to see Ted sprawled in the aisle, books everywhere. Ted grabbed them up and shuffled to the back of the bus, shoulders hunched, face haunted.

"What a freak," Thompson said loudly.

Peter put a hand on Thompson's arm. "Leave him alone, man."

Thompson shrugged and turned back to his argument with Bennet.

Peter saw the new girl watching him. She had gorgeous eyes, Peter decided. Bold. Thoughtful. He smiled at her, but she was already looking out the window again.

* * *

Peter dreamed again that night.

Ted stood in the hallway of the school, shaking, furious. Light glowed from his hands, burning orange, then red, then incandescent white. The walls shivered.

A low rumbling in the distance, and then a sheet of water rolled through the hallway, like a sudden tide, submerging everything in its path. Ted vanished beneath the waves, fire sizzling out.

"Wake up, Peter."

Peter sat up in bed. Hiro stood there in his room, silhouetted against the curtains.

Peter walked through the dark and empty hallway of the school, axe over one shoulder, flashlight in his other hand. Past the lockers, past the classrooms, down the basement steps.

He found the old piping in the corner, right where Hiro had said. He raised the axe and brought it down. It weighed nothing in his hands, sliced through the iron pipe like cardboard tubing. Water gushed out of the crack, soaking his shoes and filling the basement with a bubbling murk.

When Peter got to school the next morning, he found out all classes had been cancelled.

* * *

OCTOBER 5 2006

"So, you just moved here?" Peter said to the new girl. Her name was Simone. Peter was walking her home from their flooded school.

"Yeah. We moved to get away from my junkie ex-boyfriend," Simone said. "When I broke up with him, he went mental and started stalking me."

"Wow," Peter said. "That's pretty freaky."

"I used to think he was so cool and artistic. Then he started painting all this weird stuff. People blowing up, getting hit by cars, having their heads sliced open. Really creepy. And he just wouldn't stop using."

"I'm sorry."

They walked on in silence for a while.

"I used to want to be a painter too," Peter said. "Or a writer. Or maybe both. I'm not really sure what I want to do. But I know I want to change things. Make a difference."

"Peter Petrelli, huh," Simone said. "What the hell kind of name is that? Sounds like a superhero or something."

"What makes you think I'm not?"

It turned out her smile was even more gorgeous than her eyes.

* * *

OCTOBER 6 2006

Peter hung back after science class finished, waiting for the lab to empty. Once all the other students had left, he went up to the teacher.

"Time travel?" Dr Suresh raised his eyebrows. "That's an unusual question, Peter."

"Is something like that possible?"

Dr Suresh considered. "Hawking theorised that wormholes might be able to provide a short cut between two regions in space-time. If one could navigate a vehicle travelling faster than the speed of light through such a wormhole, then in theory one could travel back in time."

"But you'd need a spaceship. And a wormhole."

"That depends. Wait a moment." Dr Suresh rummaged through his briefcase. Eventually he pulled out a small leatherbound book, which he handed to Peter.

"The Philosophy of Time Travel. By Dr Chandra Suresh." Peter looked up. "Is he--"

"My father."

"Oh. He studied time travel?"

"He was a physicist. But towards the end of his life, he developed some unusual obsessions. I thought he was crazy." Dr Suresh sighed. "I was a young hothead. I wish I could take back the things I said. Now it's too late."

"Unless you could travel back in time and change things."

Dr Suresh gave him a pained smile. "Isn't that what we all wish?"

* * *

OCTOBER 20 2006

Giant posters covered the stage of the school auditorium. They proclaimed "YOU CAN CHANGE THE WORLD" and "WE ARE ALL SPECIAL". The biggest poster said "ATTITUDINAL BELIEFS WITH GABRIEL GRAY".

Peter slouched back in his seat, watching the man himself stride back and forth across the stage. Gray wore a sharp suit and an earnest smile, like he just couldn't wait to be your new best friend.

"Believe it or not," Gray said, "I used to be like you! Full of fear, uncertainty, hopelessness." He emphasised each word with a stab of his finger. "I know what you're going through. But there is an answer! I realised I was meant for something special. It changed my life. Since then, I've taken my seminar to schools and workplaces all over America, helping others like you unlock their potential."

He placed a hand over his heart, gazing imploringly at his audience.

"Now I want to help you find the thing that makes you special."

* * *

OCTOBER 23 2006

Peter dreamed again.

Gabriel Gray stood on the steps of the school, engulfed in a firestorm that raged without touching him. Crowds of students milled around him, reaching for him through the flames, heedless of the fact they were burning up. As they dropped to the ground, more shuffled forward to take their place, treading over the blackened bodies of their predecessors.

Peter woke up, gasping.

Hiro already stood there, waiting for him.

"What do I have to do?" Peter said.

* * *

Peter wrenched open the door to Gray's basement. The locks twisted apart with a snap. He descended the steps slowly, the almost empty can of gasoline dangling from his hand. This was the last room.

He swung his flashlight around the basement, illuminating stacks of boxes and old furniture covered in sheets. On the far wall hung a giant map of the world, bristling with push pins and criss-crossed with strings.

Peter walked towards it. The thickest cluster of push pins was around Middlesex. Each one had a photo attached. Some, like Ted's, were marked with a red cross. Others, like Claire's, were not.

"I'm so disappointed in the youth of today."

Peter spun around.

"Vandalism and arson?" Gray said. "And here I was thinking my talks were making a difference."

"Where's Ted?"

"Oh, you'll get to meet him again soon." Gray opened his hand. A burst of flame hovered above his palm.

Peter hurled the gasoline can at Gray, who calmly gestured at it. The can exploded in mid-air, sending splashes of burning gasoline flying around the room. Peter bolted for the steps. A moment later, he was lifted off his feet and pinned against the wall by an unseen force. Gray strode forward, ignoring the flickers of flame eating at the furniture. He thrust his hand under Peter's chin, turning his head this way and that. "Well now, isn't that interesting. Maybe I don't need your sister after all."

"Leave her alone!" Peter summoned up all his strength and shoved Gray away.

Gray stumbled backwards, caught off-guard. Then he smiled. "Nice try."

He gestured again, and shards of metal from the shattered can lifted into the air. They rotated, jagged points oriented towards Peter. Then they shot at him like arrows.

Peter raised an arm instinctively, as though he could deflect the attack. Braced for the impact.

Nothing.

He lowered his arm. Saw Gray standing there, throat and chest pierced through with metal shards, a look of utter astonishment on his face.

"How did you do that?" Gray whispered.

Then blood welled up in his mouth and he collapsed to the ground.

Peter sank to his knees. He felt like throwing up. Flames roared around him. He couldn't even see the door.

At least his mission was finished. And with time to spare. His death wouldn't be meaningless.

"Peter! Peter, are you down there?"

"Claire?" Peter crawled to his feet, coughing smoke.

Claire appeared in the doorway, pink dressing gown over pyjamas, embers in her hair. She took in the fire, Peter, Gray. "Oh my god."

"He's dead. I think he murdered Ted. He could do things, Claire! Like me--"

"Talk later!" Claire shouted. "We have to get out of here!"

They fought their way up the steps, out the door, Claire shielding Peter under her dressing gown. Embers scorched her skin, but the burns melted away as though Peter had only imagined them.

"What are you even doing here?"

"I followed you, dummy. I've been worried about you. We all have."

Peter gestured at Claire. "Those burns. How did you--"

"Do you think you're the only one who's a freak?"

They hobbled home together as the sun rose, the wail of sirens in the distance.

* * *

Coverage of the fire dominated local news for several days. At first there were eulogies for the tragic death of inspirational speaker Gabriel Gray. These gave way to intense speculation after reports of human remains found buried beneath the floorboards. Investigations were underway, with police looking into correlations with missing persons and unsolved disappearances.

* * *

OCTOBER 29 2006

"I got in," Nathan announced as soon as Peter got home. "I'm going to Harvard."

Peter dropped his backpack and hugged his brother. "Nathan, that's great! We should throw a party."

Nathan gave him a doubtful look. "A party?"

"Yeah. Mom and Claire are at the cheerleading tournament, Dad won't be back from New York till next weekend. We can totally get away with it."

"Okay, Pete. But it has to be a small one."

Peter grinned. "It's time to celebrate."

* * *

OCTOBER 30 2006

Peter picked his way over drunken teenagers and past blissfully dancing couples. He didn't recognise half the people here, and not just because of all the Halloween costumes.

The doorbell rang again. "I'm coming!" Peter shouted over the blaring music.

"Thank god you're home," Simone said, the moment he opened the door.

"What's wrong?" Peter drew her inside and shut the door. "You're shaking."

"It's my ex. He showed up at my house. He was high and raving again. He wanted me to go with him! My dad's back in hospital for more tests, I didn't know where else to go--"

"It's okay," Peter said. "We'll call the police."

The doorbell rang again. Simone's hand tightened on his arm.

"Come on, this way." He hustled her out the back. The noise of the party receded, leaving the whisper of wind through the trees, and the whoosh of cars in the distance.

"I don't even know how he found me."

"We'll go to the police station. They can send people to track him down."

"Simone!" A man stepped around the corner of the house. He had wild hair and wild eyes. "I just need you to listen to me!"

"Get out of here," Peter told Simone, before turning to face the man. "She wants you to leave her alone--"

Tyres squealed. Peter turned just in time to see the blue Nissan Versa slew sideways on the road and hit Simone. She went under.

"No!" Peter roared. He thrust a hand towards the car. It flipped backwards, spun in the air, and smashed against a tree. He ran to Simone's still form, knelt and cradled her in his arms. The back of her head was wet and sticky. Her eyes were blank.

"No, no, no..." A knot of helpless rage and pain pulsed inside him, swelling to fill his skin. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

A tinkle of glass and metal. Peter looked up. A helmet rolled out through the broken windscreen of the car.

Peter laid Simone gently on the ground and stood. He walked towards the car. Inside, a man sagged in his seatbelt, neck bent at an impossible angle. He wore a samurai costume.

"I fixed it!" Peter said. "I did everything you asked. Bring her back, dammit!"

"It's not over yet."

Peter turned. Stared at Hiro, who stood facing him.

Hiro looked sadly at the broken body in the car, and even more sadly at Peter. "I'm sorry."

What do you mean? Peter tried to ask, but the words didn't come out. His vision sparkled with flecks of light. He raised his hands to his face. They glowed incandescent.

A crowd had gathered, partygoers spilling out the back to see the commotion. Nathan pushed his way through to the front. He took in the situation at a glance, his face appalled. "Peter," he said, reaching out a hand.

He was the first caught in the blast.

* * *

OCTOBER 2 2006

When Peter opened his eyes, he stood on the roof again, looking out over the dim and silent skyline of Middlesex. The chill of the roof tiles seeped through his slippers and numbed the soles of his feet.

Everyone was sleeping. Unaware of what was going to happen in just twenty eight days.

Only you have the power to stop it.

He dug in his pockets for his cell phone. Pulled it out. He could call Nathan. And Nathan would save him.

He let go. The phone spun through the air and smashed into a hundred pieces on the concrete driveway.

Peter spread his arms wide, laughing, his coat billowing out behind him. Then he leaned forward into the wind, still laughing as he fell.

- fin -


End file.
